Between Now and Then
by Serenitas
Summary: In the rising sun on the day of last battle, they would all remember how Harry looked as he walked to his destiny - a solitary figure meant to save them all. Would he return?
1. Between Now and Then

Please read and review. Angst…oh the angst ahead - beware. I do not own them. I just toy with them except in this case when I mourn them.

Harry sighed as he stared into the darkness that was before him. He slept in a dark, windowless room – the light from outside bothersome to him. It was coming, the last battle with Voldemort and he would not survive. More to the point, he didn't want to. He had nothing to live for. Ron was happily dating Lavender Brown and Hermione was with Viktor Krum and blissful. Ginny and Seamus had come together in a way that made him smile when he thought about it. 

He was the odd man out.

He had no love.

He had never told his love the truth.

Hate had turned into something so much more. When he had first discovered love, discovered desire for Draco Malfoy he had felt like swallowing arsenic, until he analyzed the feelings. Draco was brave – braver indeed than some Gryffindors, for fighting his father, for refusing to turn to the Dark, for being a spy like Snape. Draco was drop dead gorgeous, brilliant (smarter than Hermione herself) and the finest catch out there. He was also absolutely straight.

He had resolved to never tell Draco how he felt, content as it were to sit in the background and watch him court every eligible young pureblood witch in Hogwarts. 

Until their graduation Draco had married an eligible and rich young pureblood witch.

He now had a child and a wife and was filthy rich, openly fighting his own father and Voldemort. Harry couldn't be prouder.

Hermione it seemed wanted to talk to him, knowing Harry as she did, she knew something was up, knew something was going through his head. He avoided her.

He heard Hedwig return to his room. 

Morning had come. The last morning he would ever see. He didn't want to live, not without Draco.

There was a tentative tap on the stone behind the curtain that separated him from the others. "Yes?" his voice was emotionless. He thought when the time came he'd be afraid to die. He was wrong.

"The sun is coming up Harry." Colin's tense voice whispered. "It's almost that time."

"Perfect." Harry replied rising. Voldemort was many things, but a lover of natural light and sun was not one of them. Harry had devised a plan that would involve attacking in the rising sun of a new day, when the world was still pure and the Death Eaters were preparing for sleep. As long as the rest of the Order could create a diversion long enough for him to get to Voldemort, he'd seal himself in with the Dark Lord and the fight would begin. He would do what everyone expected the Golden Boy of Hogwarts to do. 

Except Harry wasn't the Golden Boy. 

He hated that title. He was just as dark as Voldemort – but people turned a blind eye to it.

"Potter!" a voice called as he drifted down the hallway, the crowd parting for one who was a walking dead man.

Harry paused and closed his eyes briefly, a lump in his throat before shaking it off and steeling himself. "Good morning Malfoy." He turned.

Draco drew abreast of him, the early morning light streaming in through the broken glass of a nearby window making him appear a divine creature. "This is the morning."

"It all ends today." Harry agreed. "For good or for evil – I will end it."

"Potter…" Draco paused. "I know we haven't been the closest of companions or the best of friends…but I want you to know that I do respect you for all you've done and all you've been forced to sacrifice for the populace."

"Thank you Malfoy." Harry gave a tiny ghost of a smile. He had to get away from him…he had to. The scent of Draco was overwhelming.

Draco held out his hand. "On behalf of Genevieve, Sal and I – good luck Potter."

Harry took it, relishing that this would be the only close contact with Draco that he might ever have. Throwing caution to the wind – he'd be dead by the time the sun set, he pulled Draco flush to him in a tight hug. After holding himself rigid for a moment, Draco chuckled and returned the embrace, perhaps sensing Harry's need for physical contact – one last time. 

"Would you do me a favour Malfoy?" Harry asked as he drew back, miraculously keeping tears out of his eye.

"Name it."

Harry pressed a folded piece of parchment in his hand. "If I don't come back…read this to the Order will you?"

"You got it." Draco agreed stepping back. "You will do well Potter."

Harry smiled gently and turned, heading towards the door that had the rising sun steaming inside, blinding him. To all who had come out of their bunks at that time, their last image of Harry Potter was of a solitary, shadowy figure walking towards the dawn of a new day to rid the world of all evil on their behalf.

Hermione paced. She fretted. She worried. All those who had fought on the battlefield, all those who had fallen or survived were accounted for - save one.

"Where is he?" she asked desperately. "He said he'd come back."

"No," Draco's voice cut in. "He didn't."

"He has to live." She said shrilly. "He HAS to!"

The door creaked open – one of the only doors that had survived the Death Eater attack a few months ago and Lupin stepped in heavily. One look at his face told them all what they had suspected.

"No." Hermione shook her head, going white as a sheet.

"Voldemort has been destroyed." He said sadly. "Harry annihilated him."

"Harry…?" Hermione ventured.

"Was blown to pieces with the force of the spell he cast." Lupin shook his head. "Foolish boy, he knew that dealing in arcane magic was deadly."

Hermione let out a wail as her legs gave out and Ron let his head drop to his hands as word spread throughout that Harry Potter was indeed confirmed dead.

Draco cleared his throat. "Harry gave this to me this morning before he left." He pulled the parchment out of his pocket as his wife came to stand near him. "He told me to read it if he didn't come back."

Through the grief and tears, nods went around as Draco opened the parchment, one smaller letter falling out with Draco's name written on it, and a message to read it in private. Everyone who could fit gathered in the room to hear the final words of the Boy Who Lived.

_Everyone, if you're reading this then I have not survived the last fight with Voldemort. Hopefully I brought him with me so he will trouble you all no more. If I know any of you, you are all crying and filled with grief and mourning and weeping my loss. I tell you as your leader – stop. It was not your fault I died; it had nothing to do with you. I knew the spell I cast would destroy me and chose to cast it anyway. My life is complete and I have only a private regret in my dying._

_ Ron – you were my first friend, my best friend. Though we have grown apart in recent years and have fought, I have always admired you and your strength. You have an ability to keep going even when the odds are against you. You are with Lavender now and happy. I wish you the best and will always miss you. _

_ Hermione – what can I say to you? I love you Hermione – you were the sister I never had. You were the brains, the beauty and the wit. You have an unquenchable and unsurpassable spirit about you 'Mione, you have never let anyone bring you down. You are the greatest person I have ever known and it was an honour to know you. You will do well Hermione – I have foreseen it._

_ Lupin – after Sirius died you took over as my surrogate father, helping me grieve, giving me advice and strength to carry on. I owe you more than I can ever say and it pains me to know that I will never be able to repay you. I am with Sirius and my parents now Remus – do not grieve for me anymore._

_ To the rest of the members of the Order – I wish I could leave personal notes for all of you, but I can't. Know that this was my time and this was my chance. I lived every moment of this life and left nothing to chance. I had the choice to deny you all and live – for me there was one choice to make. _

_ Live happy and free, for the eternal night has passed and sun shines in the world again._

_ Harry Potter._

Draco's voice finished his face expressionless as if even he felt something in those words. Hermione had buried her face in Ron's shoulder as they sobbed together. All through the building, people were supporting each other as they cried. Draco excused himself and went outside for a breath of air, the room suddenly very close.

Away from his wife, away from prying eyes, he opened the smaller letter left by Harry. 

_Draco,_

_ In recent years we have developed a tolerance for each other, a respect if you will. I do however have to tell you one thing – my one regret in life. I never loved Draco, I have never had anyone love me back and I have never known the touch of a lover. You are wondering why I tell you this – well…you were the only one I ever truly wanted, the only one I never had. I mourned when you married Draco; I was drunk a week when Salazar was born and I have watched you from afar. I love you Draco Malfoy, but my secret would have destroyed you – and me. You have never been interested in me that way, never looked at me that way and I understand that._

_ It doesn't matter._

_ I love you still._

_ I am dead now and these words can no longer hurt you. I don't expect you to mourn for me; I don't expect you to shed a tear. Know that even in death; in the afterlife I love you still._

_ I will always love you._

_ I would rather be a ghost drifting at your side then never have known you at all – even if it was platonic. _

_ All my worldly goods I leave to you Draco, my money, my wand and my broomstick. Anything that belongs to me is now yours – the Gringotts Goblins have the paper locked away. Go there and ask for it._

_ It's all I can give you since I can't give you my open love._

_ Be happy with your wife and son. Perhaps you might even name a son after me (lack of sleep has made me punchy). The sun is rising now and I go to face my destiny and do what I was born to do. I was born to die Draco._

_ I'll die loving you – just as I lived. I could tell you when or where it began but it doesn't matter. _

_ The feeling is what is important._

_ I love you Draco. It feels good to finally let you know._

_ I will miss you in death – for I can never see you again. Take care of yourself Draco and perhaps we'll meet in the afterlife._

_ Love is fleeting in life, eternal in death. I have seen infinity Draco and I wait for you there._

_ Love, _

_ Harry._

For the first time since he was a child, Draco Malfoy wept. He wept for his wife, he wept for his son, and he wept for Harry Potter – the man who loved him. 

The man who he'd loved in return. 

He couldn't have ever told him. He had never even suspected the truth – that Harry had loved him back.

Now Harry was dead.

And Draco left alive – with a wife he didn't really love and a son he wished was Harry's.

"Draco?" Genevieve called from the doorway. "Are you crying?"

Draco didn't answer; just stared in the direction he had last seen Harry walk. "Don't give up on me Harry. I'll meet you when my life is through – but I don't know how long that'll be. Between now and then until I see you again…I love you, just as you loved me." He said in a whisper. He wiped his eyes and turned to his wife.

"Let's go Genevieve."

--_Between now and then until I see you again I'll be loving you. _

_Love,_

_ Me_.--

The last verse is from 'Colin Raye's 'Love Me.'' 


	2. In Memoriam

            This is just a bit of a follow up to the first chapter, it takes place one year after Harry's death. It is the first person POV to everyone he mentioned in his goodbye notes. This little idea just came to me while I was washing my face and demanded to be written. I do hope you enjoy it and please review!  The new chapter of ASU is almost complete and heading off to the beta this afternoon. 

            I am not JK Rowling. If you thought that, you are stupid. Flames will be used to warm my hands.

            Review please!

            Did you know that when the living think of the dead, the dead can hear those thoughts? It's appropriate really, that something like that occurs to me on this day. It was one year ago today that Harry defeated Voldemort, one year ago today that Harry died. 

            He was my brother. Oh not by blood of course, but in all ways that counted he was my brother. He defended me and loved me and supported me in all things. I still remember the look on Lupin's face as he announced the death of Harry, the pure shock I felt coursing through my system as the words sunk in and most of all I remember an emptiness deep within me that would never be filled again, for Harry filled it in a way I never even knew about. It's funny – you don't realize the effect a person has on you or in you until they are no longer there.

            One year. One year of monotony and peace and tranquility and rebuilding. We had often spoken of what we would do once Voldemort was gone – wait, that is a lie. Ron and I spoke of what we would do, Harry never joined in those conversations. I see now that he knew he would not survive the final battle, and he didn't burden us with those dark thoughts. We would chatter idly about the future, and Harry would watch us with a wistful smile on his face, sadness in his eyes and a terrible prophecy before him.

What must he have felt, living with that knowledge that he would not survive? I still can't think about it. I would have gone mad living with such a secret.

            I see people going about their lives, chatting, cheerful, laughing and making noise and I want to hush each one of them and tell them that this is a very sad day. There should be no joy today. Three hundred and sixty five days since Harry died, three hundred and sixty five days of me missing him more than I could have ever thought.  Ron's wedding to Lavender is coming up soon, my promotion in the Ministry was last week – all major events that we had planned to go through together. Fate it seems had other plans as the infamous Trio is reduced to two.

             I promised myself I wouldn't cry over Harry again – I appear to have lied to myself. Will I ever stop missing my brother? Will this pain ever subside enough that I can go more than a few hours without thinking about him? Will I soon stop turning to the right to tell him something only to realize that he's not there and never will be again?

            Will Harry hear these thoughts in the afterlife and know I will always love him?

            It's been one year since Harry died, a time of reflection for some, a time of pain for me. Oh I have Lavender to be sure, and you could point out that Harry and I had grown apart in the past few years, not seeing eye to eye, me with my girlfriend, Harry with his plans. I never really thought about what life would be like without Harry – I wouldn't let myself really. Hermione called him brother, loved him like one, and misses him more than anyone I've ever seen – save Lupin or myself. 

            No one would expect me to be able to hide this hurt that I feel inside, but I do. Harry was not a brother to me; he was a friend – my best friend. I took him for granted, I see that now, I expected him to save us all. I never even entertained the idea that he would not be here to live in this era of peace with us – peace that he brought us. 

            My wedding is coming up, and Harry was going to stand with me at the altar as Lavender walked towards me. 

            That spot will now stand empty.

            My family understands, so does Lavender – that spot was for Harry alone, and I can't pretend that I want someone else there – I don't. It's the least I can do for him.

            Our last words in this world were spoken in anger. 

            I accused him of terrible things, called him terrible names and demanded impossible things. I refused to listen to him, to see what Hermione was trying to tell me about the sadness in his eyes. The acceptance. I thought him so high and mighty the morning he walked off to face Voldemort, I thought he enjoyed the attention he was getting for the climactic final battle and how he would lap up the attention the way he always did when he returned. We both knew how jealous I was of him, but he remained my friend anyway.

            Then I found out he was dead. I never had the chance to apologize to him; I let him die thinking that I hated him.

            It's been one year and I live with this guilt – because of me he felt he had nothing to return to, no point in living. One year.

            Will the time come when I can get over this pain? Will it happen that this hurt can and will fade? My first son will be named for my friend – Lavender suggested it quietly one night after he died, and I loved her even more for it. It's my way of letting Harry know that I'm sorry, and that I miss him. 

            Today I will go to the spot where he died and pay my respects. 

            He was my son. In the wake of the death of Sirius, I took over as his father figure and loved him as much as I could. Harry studied around me; let me see the spells he was planning to cast, spells that were arcane and as old as magic itself. He claimed it was the only way and I believed him. I would have believed anything he told me when he looked at me with those emerald eyes and that desperate expression. 

            I hated the world for forcing such pressure and responsibility on so young a man, a person who had never even known the touch of a lover. A few brief snogs exchanged with a girl he had thought he was attracted to was the only romance he had ever known. My heart aches even more when I think of that.

            I drift listlessly from day to day, having really lost everything – a wolf without a pack. The names drift through my head every day, a mantra I am both unwilling and unable to stop. James, Lily, Sirius, Albus, Hagrid…Harry.  Harry.  He tried to be so brave, but I knew how scared he was. Inside he was still just a boy, a boy who had never been able to be one. He had to grow up too fast and too suddenly.

            He only understood death and I think that is why he rushed to meet it. He once told me an ancient quote "Those that would use Magic's Power must then pay Magic's Price."1 I never understood the meaning of that until he died. 

            I was the first to walk the battlefield where it happened. I was the first to find his wand and cloak, the twisted and broken frames of his glasses lay smoking in the grass, right across from a pile of twisted and putrid ash that was Voldemort. 

            Of Harry's body, there was no sign. 

            Hedwig hooted mournfully overhead, if an owl could cry, then she wept a vale of tears that day. I collapsed, unable to move, unable to accept the truth that was in front of me. 

            He was gone.

            One year later, my cub has not returned, he will never return. I wander from town to town, place to place, unable to stay put, being drawn by an invisible force to some place I can not see or touch. Life means nothing to me anymore, it all went with the passing of the green eyes and the black hair. 

            Today I return to the place where I died too – and pray that my son can hear me.

            It's been one year since the death of Potter, one year since he wrote me that note telling me how he really felt, one year since I finally accepted the truth of just how much he meant to me. 

            He never knew, just as I never knew.

            We fought together frequently, both carrying our dark secrets of attraction for each other, neither one being able to speak the truth in case we brought danger to the one we loved. Yes, I loved him I admit it freely now. I look at my son and wish he were Harry's, I look and my wife and know I can never love her. I never ever did. Ours was a proper Slytherin marriage, a convenient alliance between two old Houses. Genevieve and I understood where we stood with each other, slept in different rooms and took lovers if we wanted to – as long as it was discreet I didn't care. 

            I never took another to my bed. 

            Harry died thinking that I was his friend, but he died with the promise that he would wait for me on the other side, and I gave him an oath that I will join him and someday we will be together. It was all I could do. 

            I teach my son to grasp love when he finds it, to never let it go and the rest of the world be damned. I don't want Salazar to fall into the same trap I did, of being forced to do something because of our reputation. Genevieve wants a divorce and I am willing to give it to her. The only one I want is scattered in bits across the English countryside, having annihilated our enemy, yes, but blowing himself apart in the process. 

            He hugged me before he left, an act that both surprised me as it made me want to ravish him then and there. He saw it as the only chance he would ever have to touch me, and I saw it as the only chance I would have to hold him in my arms. If only I'd known – even suspected sooner! Nothing would have kept me from his side and what everyone else thought – screw it. 

            I didn't just want his delectable body; I wanted his mind and soul. I wanted _him_.  He never had the chance to explore desire or lust, died as pure as he lived. I hate society for forcing him down the road that he walked – I hate myself for being a part of that society. Why didn't I see it sooner? Why didn't I realize that all he needed was a gentle and loving touch from someone – anyone? He was larger than life, Harry Potter, and no one even thought of his needs, of his yearnings. 

            My love…beloved through all time and to the end of my days. Harry Potter will remain the one I never caught, the one that my heart cries for every night and the one who I will join, perhaps sooner than later, for I cannot live in a world without him in it. Everything is colourless, featureless, dismal and grey – I see now that he gave colour and life to me without ever knowing what he was doing. He never saw how I would watch him, how I would tense when he was around and if I was lucky I'd catch the faintest hint of his scent in the air. 

            He told me that love was fleeting in life, eternal in death. I believe that is true. It was one year ago today that I finally found out the truth he had hidden for so long. 

            I am drawn to the place of his death, a place that the Ministry barricaded off from prying eyes – so many want to see the place where it all ended. The air is heavily saturated with magic, it lingers here stronger than any other place including Hogwarts itself, and if I close my eyes I can feel it running through my veins. This magic is Harry's aura, and I can sense him here with me now.

            I don't want to open my eyes, I want to pretend, even if it's just for a moment that Harry is not dead, I want to pretend that he is standing next to me, that he is holding my hand, caressing my cheek and letting me know that he loves me as much as I love him. "I love you Harry." I murmur.

            "I love you too Draco." I hear a whisper, very faint as there is a gentle pressure on my lips – a kiss of desperation and love, as though time was fleeting. "Always."

            My eyes fly open, and I think that I am delusional with the memories of what might have been. The wind whispers through the trees and it must have answered my thoughts, but that kiss felt so real…

            "Malfoy?"

            I turn and sigh. Weasley is here, no doubt to pay his respects as well. I didn't want to get caught here; I don't want to answer the questions that are going to come up. "Hello Weasley."

            He doesn't throw accusations at me, he just nods and shuffles away, kneeling on the place Lupin marked with an 'X', the place Harry last stood and he prays.

            I slowly walk away from him, not wanting company, not wanting to break the fantasy that for a moment Harry was alive and that he gave me a forbidden kiss.

            "Malfoy!"

            '_What now?'_ I think irritably. I want to be alone with my pain and my mourning. "Yes Weasley?"

            He's walking towards me now. "I know."

            "You know what?" I arch an eyebrow.

            "Harry never said a word, never dared, but I watched Harry watch you. I don't know if he ever told you, but I suspect he left you a note so he could die with a clean conscience."

            "He left me a sappy and sentimental note." I acknowledge. "So what?"

            "I told you," he says quietly. "I watched Harry watch you, and I watched you watch Harry. You loved him just as much as he loved you. It destroyed him when you married you know, but he understood. He would never have told me of course, but I want you to know that I understand why you are here today."

            I can't say anything more. "Thank you Weasley."

            He nods and turns away, sighing deeply as he too closes his eyes, perhaps to pretend that for a moment his friend is there. I think for a moment I see movement in the trees, and then shake my head mirthlessly, it is a trick of the light. No amount of wishing will ever heal my heart, for the only one who could hold it is no longer a part of this world.

            "I will always love you." I whisper.

            "I know." I hear the reply.

            It's been one year since Harry Potter died, one year since freedom was restored and people could walk down the road in peace and not worry about being snatched, tortured or raped. 

            Harry never really acknowledged much about the world, but he carried concern for every person alive in it, he felt each death personally, as if it were his fault. Harry never really acknowledged me too much, never really cared. I was a person he had to ignore to fulfill his duties and obligations to a society that used him as a figurehead and a pawn. I do not think much of a society that hides behind a young man only wanting to be normal, only wanting to live. 

            I see two figures at the spot where Harry is rumoured to have died, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy. This would amuse Harry to no end. Ron and Harry's last words in this world were said in anger, Weasley telling him that he had to do his duty and he was a selfish git for wanting to save himself. Harry nodded sadly and said he knew, but Ron had no right to say such a thing to him. It was a messy fight.

            Draco Malfoy is the secret love of Harry, and despite Harry's death, I can see that he loves him still. Malfoy is speaking to the wind, as if Harry himself will answer, he is looking around as though he has gotten a secret kiss.

            Harry Potter died on this spot, he gave all he was to the world, lived for everyone else and never asked for a thing in return. His body was never found, most assume it was blown apart.

            However there are a select few – I am one of them who thinks that Harry Potter lives, just not where we can see him. Perhaps he left what he had to at the scene to make it convincing, perhaps he leaked the kind of spell he was going to cast knowing people would jump to conclusions, perhaps…

            It's foolish to think of what might have been. Harry Potter is gone, never to return and the world is emptier for that loss.

            I hear Draco speaking to the wind. "I will always love you." He whispers.

            My heart swells at the sincerity I hear, at the devotion in his voice, at the obvious love Harry never knew existed. "I know." I reply.

            It's better this way.

            What did you think? I have an idea for a bit of a follow up to this, but that depends solely on interest of the reader. 

            Please review. Thank you.


	3. Anymore

This chapter is dedicated to the one who I let go so that their life would be better. I do not own the characters, if you hadn't already guess. Flames will be used as implements to be inserted in the most painful of bodily orifices. I am accepting submissions on my website, the links are in my bio. Also, for anyone waiting for more of A Song Unsung, it **will not** be put back here on FFN. You can find it at ForeverFandom.net, AFF and my site; all links are in my bio. 

_I can't hide the way I feel_

_About you_

_Anymore_

I closed my eyes as I sat on the ground. It was strange sitting there and I knew full well that there were many who would have laughed if they could see the mighty Malfoy sitting outside on the damp ground instead of going inside where it was warm and dry, my soon to be ex wife one of them. I feel like I belong here and have ever since that time a few short months ago when I am certain that whatever spirit Harry had left behind kissed me, a balm to my wounded my soul. In the weeks following that incident, I became more reclusive. I travelled here almost daily just to touch his soul. When I stand on the last spot that Harry ever did I feel close to him, and I know that he can feel me. He once said that love was stronger than death, and I pray that he's right. That whatever peace he is in now, he also knows I love him. 

            I don't think I could stand it if Harry was a ghost, condemned to a life of not quite death. He was far too brave for that, too noble to endure such a fate for the rest of eternity. I knew perhaps better than anyone else how much he looked forward to and welcomed death when it came; he likely greeted it with open arms like a lover.  In death, he did no longer have to suffer the hatred and resentment directed at him by those who had lost family.

            I do my job every day, I see my son, I am an upstanding member of society who has confused and baffled everyone by my resistance in taking a new lover in the wake of my separation. To everyone I appear perfectly normal. 

            If they only knew, I spend almost every waking moment at a gravesite.

            Weasley knows and keeps my dark secret. In return, I have made certain that his financial problems vanish.

            I know I have to get on with my life at some point, but I can't let go yet, I can't just condemn Harry to an eternity where I don't give him everything he silently gave me in life. If he only knew just how tired I was of pretending that I didn't love him. 

            Granger once told me that when the living think of the dead, the dead could hear those thoughts. 

            "Potter," I say aloud, hoping I can get the words out. "I know I said I would wait forever for you and that I would love no other but you, and I stand by that. 

            "You are dead and have been for a year and a half now. You died in autumn; it is now coming onto spring. A time of rebirth and renewal. A time of fresh beginnings. 

            "You understand, don't you Potter?" I pause, my voice breaking. "I will always love you and I will always mourn you, but I cannot wallow in this agony any longer. Life still goes on, I still pay my taxes," I shake my head. "I have come today to say goodbye to you. I love you, I will always love you and I will return on the anniversary of the day that you left me with your dark secret.

            "Rest in peace Harry," I say softly. "I hope that you are happy, at last."

            I wipe a tear from my eye as I Apparate away, leaving a marker behind as my tribute to the Man Who Died. 

            I watch Malfoy lay something on the death site of my cub. I could have shown myself to him, but what's the point? I am more animal now than man, not caring enough to talk to humans. I run with other werewolves, but I am always the outcast of the pack. I had a pack and lost it and as such, they will never fully let me in. I live here near where Harry died and I have seen Malfoy almost every day for the last six months. 

            I know he loves Harry; I would know it even if I couldn't smell the emotion. Not many people know that love does have a scent to it, sweet and sharp at the same time, dark and light…if you have been around soul mates you might have caught a whiff of it on the wind. No, I have known for some time of the love the two of them had however, I chose not to acknowledge it. As Harry did, I pretended it didn't exist, for what good would it have done in the end?

            Harry had to die to save us. That is the final decision. I drift through endless days of bleakness, missing him more than anyone will ever know. I thought I was going to die when I lost James and Lily, and then Sirius. No matter what I always had Harry and the loss of him was the final breaking of my heart. 

            If I could go back in time for just a moment I would refuse to teach Harry that spell that had killed him. A life at war was better than a life without Harry.

            Most people nowadays don't even think of him. He served his purpose. Dead martyrs are so much more effective to rally people than live ones.

            My poor cub. He deserved better than to be blown across the countryside. He deserved more than a cordoned off death site. He deserved more than a handful of genuine mourners, the rest are tourists who want to take pictures and have picnics on the area where the war ended. I want to bite these people.

            Malfoy is going to move on with his life, as am I. Like Malfoy I have come here one last time to say goodbye. My new pack is moving north and I go with them. 

            "My son," I say softly from the cover of the trees. "I am not abandoning you, and I will see you when I die. I miss you, I miss your wit, your sarcasm. I miss everything about you every minute of every day and don't think for a moment that even though I am gone I will stop thinking of you. I carry you with me everywhere, and I always will. I have to get away from here Harry for the memories are too painful. I have lost everyone who has ever meant anything to me. 

            "I know you and I know you wouldn't want me to mourn your death in this way. So I will celebrate your life and when I howl to the moon I howl with your voice too." I pause. "Goodbye son."

            I walk to the gravesite, not wanting to Apparate, finding it disrespectful. It has been a year and a half since the death of my brother and I come to bid him the most final of farewells. I am leaving Britain altogether to seek out a new life, to perhaps find some happiness somewhere and escape the heavy pain that lingers in my heart. I close my eyes at night and I can still see Harry's face, hear his laugh as we did so many midnight escapades with his cloak of iniquity. 

            No one can know how hard I was hit with the loss of Harry. They might say they understand, that they sympathize, but no one can ever know because not one other soul alive thought of him as their brother. Think of how you would feel if you lost the one person you could have been a twin to?

            When the Ministry offered me an overseas position I took it willingly. They see my melancholy growing daily, see me withdrawing into myself and speaking monosyllabic. I am sinking deeper into a pit of despair that I'm not sure I can ever get out and know I have to leave. I now know how Harry felt in the days leading up to his death, yet unlike him I do not have his poise in dealing with it, I do not have the brave façade. 

            I see something silver on the faded 'X' that was put up to mark the Final Stand as people are calling it. Pulling it up out of the damp leaves I notice it is a figure of a dragon and phoenix entwined together, very similar to the Seven Gods mentioned in Japanese mythology. All Gods got along save the Gods of North and South, Seiriyu and Suzaku – eternal enemies, destined lovers. 

            I know who put this here and it gives me comfort. He too is moving on, letting whatever spirit Harry left behind that they will always be together.

            "Harry," I say quietly, the words spilling from my lips without thought. "I came here to tell you that there is no one else who holds a candle anywhere next to you. I miss you my brother. I'm sure you know by now that I am leaving. You would tell me that I was running and you are correct. I am running from what is here. I know you haven't fully passed over, too many odd things have happened to make me think otherwise. I appreciate all that you have done for me, for I'm sure it hasn't been easy. 

            "I will always love you Harry."

            There are no other words for me to say.

            I sigh as I wander through the semi-empty streets of Muggle London, heading for the Underground. Damn Lavender and her pregnant cravings and damn me for having to run out to pick up tripe and chocolate, an appalling combination but one that will soothe my wife. I know what today is, just as well as everyone else. It's been a year and a half since Harry died. A year and a half of endless days that chug by slower than the Hogwarts Express, five hundred and forty seven  days since I lost my chess partner. I wonder if he has managed to forgive me for the venomous words I threw at him the last time we really spoke. I wonder if he has found peace at last?

            I hope Lavender delivers a son. She has insisted we be surprised on the big day, yet we have not picked out any female names, and only one boy. Harry. 

            He'd be godfather to my child if he were alive. Instead I've chosen Charlie who understands he is second choice and accepts in Harry's name. 

            I fumble with the bag I am holding, having knocked into a person. "Sorry." I say aloud, readjusting my grip and glancing up to make sure that I haven't hurt anyone.

            I drop the bag. 

            Emerald green eyes stare at me.

            A shock of unruly black hair.

            A beard covers the lower part of his face but I know. _I know._ It's impossible. It's a miracle…it's… "Harry?" I whisper.

            The man stares at me strangely. When he speaks it's with a heavy Scottish brogue. "Sorry I ran into ye mate. Being careless." He shrugged nonchalantly. 

            "I thought you were dead Harry." 

            "I don't know who you're talking about laddie." The man says as he glances at his watch. "I have to catch my train. Are you alright?"

            I nod, not even glancing at the spilled bag at my feet. I watch him dash for the train and my heart wrenches. I'd know that walk anywhere, I saw it often enough over the course of almost seven years. "Harry…" 

            I feel tears in my eyes, a pain welling up in me that I haven't felt since the day I heard the news Harry had died. 

            Somehow he had come back to life.

            But not back to us.

            "I understand." I murmur, realizing that it was just someone who looked remarkably like Harry, but it wasn't him. For the rest of my life it will never be him. 

            And I'm ok with that.

            A year and a half. It's been a year and a half since Harry Potter died and people still mourn his death. Not as many now as there used to be, after all, life goes on. Even Draco Malfoy is moving on, the one true love of Harry. 

            I watch him almost every day go to visit Harry's gravesite, I watch him sit for hours in the damp leaves on the cold ground and speak to Harry with his eyes closed. I watch his face relax as he gets those secret kisses from beyond the grave, as he gets that loving touch from a spirit that cannot leave him. 

            I watch everyone who goes there: Lupin who lives as a savage outcast from a werewolf pack, Malfoy the mourning lover lost, Hermione the grieving sister. Ron is the only one who doesn't go there on a regular basis, but he does have a wife with a baby on the way so it's understandable.  

            I too mourn the loss of Harry Potter, but in a different way from everyone else, for what did I ever give him but a hard time and ridicule? All those times I contradicted him and told him he was wrong because I was too afraid to admit that he was right. We were darkness and light he and I. Only for some strange reason I was the light and he was the darkness. I was one of the few who could see that darkness in him. 

            If he were alive today he might be living with Malfoy, might be happy and in love and warm and not dead.

            Harry Potter will never come back. I pause just a few paces back from where Malfoy has stopped before entering the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He gives one final lingering look in the direction of where Harry died. "My mind keeps recreating a life with you alone." He says aloud. "I will never be free of you and I promise to spend a part of every day thinking of you even if I'm not at your grave."

            I hold the charm he left at the gravesite in my hand. "Your heart belongs to me." I reply into the wind, knowing the words will carry.

            Draco closes his eyes for a moment, perhaps to savour the words and I take that opportunity to dash close to him, keeping in the shadows and press my lips to his before running into the approaching gloom 

            It's the least I can do for him to ease his pain. One last time.

            I let my lips stretch in a satisfied grin. "I knew he would come." I said quietly. "I'll be waiting for your return. I expect you to bring back my necklace and a damn good reason."  

He will come back to ease my pain. 

            Someday.

_My tears no longer wait_

_My resistance ain't that strong_

_But my mind keeps recreating_

_A life with you alone_

Please review and let me know what you think and if you feel more should be added. The quotes from the song are from Travis Tritt's 'Anymore.'


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